


Everyone Needs a Little Something Sometimes

by Rynfinity



Series: The March of the Damned [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Rough Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is everything okay over there,” one of the coaches finally asks him.</p><p>“I’m getting a kitten,” Loki blurts out without thinking.  “And a big sister for it.  For <i>him</i>.”</p><p>A few people share pet stories rather than drug stories.  He’s not sure if that’s okay or not, but it’s- nice, regardless.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to <i>Going Up the Rabbit Hole Can Be Weirder than Down It</i> and will make the most sense read after its predecessors. </p><p>This story takes place in the same AU and timeframe as <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2233710/chapters/4900842">Plans</a> from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/104813">Out of the Mouths of Babes</a>; unlike the Babes stories, this one is told from Loki's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Getting kittens is awesome. Terrifying, but awesome.

Loki smiles a little nervously as he runs down yet another mental checklist. Every day now, it seems, they overcome another hurdle and are that much closer to _catfamilyness_. “Things are coming right along,” he tells Dr. Riley. “My most recent round of bullshit didn’t set us back as far as I’d thought it might.”

Actually, when he adds up all the various pieces, Loki’s not sure it set the two of them back at all. The whole business with Odin – not just the unexpected visit, but (most likely) the emotional mess it left (both of) them in as well – clearly drove a few things home for Thor; things Loki had expected to have a tough time explaining. “I know I mentioned that Thor’d gotten us an order of protection against Odin,” he tells Dr. Riley (again; he’s told her several times now, he realizes, but he can’t help himself; it still doesn’t feel real unless he talks about it fairly constantly). “That was really important to me, knowing that- that the guy can’t just come barging in once the cats are here. Not without- consequences.”

“You’re feeling better about getting them, then” she asks him.

Loki stops and thinks, eyes closed, because he knows she will make him put in the effort if he doesn’t first opt to do so on his own.

Thinking doesn’t change a thing, at least not this time. He still feels the same way, and the topic still makes him stupidly anxious. “Mostly,” he offers, glancing a little bit at Dr. Riley and a lot at her desk. “Before, I think I was really nervous about how _Thor_ was really nervous,” he admits. “I wanted him to be the strong, confident one, you know?” He stops waffling and looks directly at her. “But that’s ridiculous, because of course he’s kind of panicky. This is a big thing for him, too. And on top of that,” he adds, smiling a little, “whenever he’s actually all baselessly strong and confident it annoys me.”

She smiles in return. “To listen to you tell it, yes, it does.”

“So,” he confirms, “I should actually be reassured by his- his reasonable concerns. Right?” And then he laughs at himself. “I know, I know. I’m fishing.”

“I’ll let it go this time,” she tells him. “I’m pleased with how well you’re adjusting to all of this, actually. Recent events notwithstanding.”

That catches him by surprise. He’s been feeling kind of down about the little show he put on. Okay, the big show. No one has said a thing (beyond the occasional _good to see you’re feeling better_ ), and he’s stubbornly said hello to the guards every time he’s seen them, but deep down he’s embarrassed and guilty. He put several people at risk with his selfish behavior. Which, come to think of it, he should probably _tell_ someone. “I put myself first,” he tries. It’s a start. It is.

“Sometimes you have to,” Dr. Riley agrees, and that catches Loki by surprise too.

“I could have hurt someone,” he blurts out. “I didn’t need to act that way.”

Dr. Riley leans forward in her chair and rests her chin on the heel of one hand. “I don’t expect this to feel true to you right away,” she tells him, “so try not to let it bother you if it doesn’t.”

He braces for something shocking.

It isn’t, but it kind of is: “It’s actually a very positive thing to hear you caring about this,” she tells him. “Because as recently as when you and I started our work together, which I know isn’t anywhere near the beginning of even your most recent journey towards healing, it would have been very difficult for me to explain to you why an event or action like that might matter. Why it might be meaningful to other people,” she adds, studying him closely. “In fact, that applies to a lot of what seems to be challenging you presently. Not only are you deeply concerned about the cats, and even about Thor, but you’re worried about the effect your actions are having on people far less central to your own wellbeing.”

Loki frowns. “I’ve never been a giant fan of looking like an idiot,” he reminds her.

She laughs. “Yes, I know,” she half-teases. “But I think this is more than just that. Quite a bit more. I think you’re actually showing real, reasonable concern for someone other than yourself… someone who isn’t even key to your - literal or figurative - survival. And that’s a very good thing, not to mention very impressive progress. Take my word for it; you should feel proud of yourself.”

Inside, _maybe_ , he kind of does. Outside, Loki huffs. “You want me to feel good about turning into a sissy?”

Dr. Riley snickers. “Thank you for the reminder that, no matter how much you grow, you’re still the Loki we all know and love,” she tells him.

He smiles, even though his face feels warm and he knows he must be blushing. “So,” he says, because _enough about this already_ , “we were talking about my adjusting?”

She leans back in her chair again and pulls one foot up onto the seat cushion. “We were, yes. It’s a lot of change; your job at the shelter, working towards adopting pets…” – she gestures _and so on_. “Change is never easy.”

Loki shrugs. “I’m trying. Harder,” he adds, because he is.

“I know you are,” she assures him. “We all do.”

~

He does his best to pay attention during group, but it isn’t easy. They’ve made up their minds and been approved to adopt, and they’re _getting cats this weekend. GETTING CATS_. He’s _so fucking excited_.

“Is everything okay over there,” one of the coaches finally asks him.

“I’m getting a kitten,” he blurts out without thinking. “And a big sister for it. For _him_.”

A few people share pet stories rather than drug stories. He’s not sure if that’s okay or not, but it’s- nice, regardless.

~

Everything is easier at the pet store, where the young guy working the counter shares Loki’s nearly-overwhelming enthusiasm. “I have a new kitten of my own,” he tells Loki happily. “She’s six months old now. She loves these,” he says, pulling toy after toy down off the racks and up out of the well-stocked bins, “and these, and these. Oh, and you’ll need some of the bigger toys for your older cat,” he adds, stretching on tiptoe to grab a couple of stuffed toy chipmunks and waving them at Loki. “These are fantastic.”

Loki squishes one. Something inside it crinkles. “Perfect,” he says. And it _is_ perfect.

~

He’s running pretty late and hasn’t texted; as he opens the door his good mood has drifted away and Loki’s feeling more than a little worried.

As he steps inside, though, he’s greeted with cheery hellos and something even better: Sif (bless her) and his brother have done all, as in _every single fucking bit_ , of the cable wrapping. His fingers hurt just looking at the evil black stuff, and Loki wants to hug both his favorite people.

~

Everyone loves the toys. The Thai place delivers. Steve arrives bearing adorable cat dishes.

Loki is so full of feelings, he might burst. In the end he doesn’t; he violently hugs Steve instead. He even lets go without having to be pried off, but it’s a close call.

And then, just like that, he’s _too_ full again. So full it hurts something terrible. “Are we crazy, Siffy,” he asks, voice breaking. It probably sounds like it’s come completely out of nowhere, which isn’t all that odd because it feels like it, too. “Are we? Is this really even something we can do?” He’s pretty sure Thor will manage, but he himself is weak and damaged and cowardly…

Sif reaches out to pet his arm gently. “You’ll be fine, baby,” she promises. “Loki, honest,” she goes on as he scrunches up his face and fights not to shriek, or to cry, “you take care of almost 30 cats now. You’ll be fine with a couple. You will.” She twists a little to get a better look at him and gives his arm a tiny squeeze. “I know you will.”

Loki squints at her. “And if we’re not,” he challenges. “If I’m not?”

“Then I’ll cat-sit,” she tells him, smiling. “It’ll be like respite. You and Thor can have an evening without the kids and reconnect.” She grins up at him. “Seriously, I know you guys can do this,” she reiterates. “ _You_ know you can do it.” She lets go of him, with a little push. “You’ve thought this through very thoroughly,” she reminds him, and _that_ he certainly can’t deny. “You’re much more prepared than most adopters. Don’t overthink and second-guess yourself, okay?”

She’s speaking something close enough to the truth. He knows she is, just like _she_ knows he needs to hear it. He takes a deep breath and smiles back at her. “You’re right,” he admits, because he should put it to bed already. “I should stop.” Loki turns to look at each of them – at his brother, at Steve, back at Sif – in turn. “Here’s an idea: Let’s distract me with dinner.”

It’s Thai. It’s delicious. In the end, he doesn’t need all that much distracting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's stressing stresses Loki. Because: Loki.

As much as he’d like to pretend otherwise – although, to be honest, Loki’s not quite sure whether he wants _otherwise_ or not… when things go too well, he has an annoying habit of stepping determinedly in and destroying them, just because he can – something simply doesn’t feel right. Thor has been acting more and more odd over the past couple of weeks and, even though his brother flatly denies that anything’s going on, Loki finds himself no longer able to ignore it.

Again. He’s tried both ignoring _and_ not ignoring it several times in a row now and each iteration – at each end of the teeter-totter’s swing - has gotten him precisely nowhere.

It’s strange and concerning and it’s making his skin crawl.

Loki may not like it but is obligated to admit it; he has no idea what to make of those (increasingly common, which is odd in its own right) situations where something’s clearly amiss and yet he’s not equally clearly at the root of it. He’s not sure quite what Dr. Riley would make of that, actually. Maybe she would laugh at him; maybe she’d praise his growing awareness of how he’s not, as it’s been (unsuccessfully) explained to him many times over the years, _the center of the known universe_.

Even if he concedes, it’s still fair to say he’s normally close to the center somehow. He’s pretty sure he’s never been all the way out on one of the distant arms of a nebula.

~

The fact he’s thought through all of that in the maybe half a minute since his brother’s come home probably _is_ a problem, though. It’s just not one he feels like addressing presently.

~

He pokes his head around the corner, out to where Thor is toeing off shoes and dropping bags just a little too noisily. “What’s wrong,” Loki asks, pleasantly enough, fully expecting another round of _getting nowhere_.

Sure enough: “It’s nothing,” Thor says flatly, even though his blotchy red face tells a different story altogether. _We’re lying liars_ , Loki thinks, _the both of us_. But then Thor straightens up and rakes his fingers through his hair, messing up his bun and making long strands stick out here and there. “No, that’s not true,” he corrects himself, and Loki suddenly can’t draw a full breath. “I’m sorry.”

_Keep your cool, keep your cool_ , Loki reminds himself. _This is what you asked for. It’s what you wanted_.

Except it isn’t, and he has no idea what’s going on. That, and he needs to keep his shit together until he knows what he’s dealing with. Loki takes a deep breath – quietly, still secretively – and walks over to where his brother is wavering in the dead zone between _home_ and _out in space somewhere_. He reaches out and lays a hand on Thor’s red, splotchy cheek.

And then he waits silently, which is extremely challenging. Especially when searching his brother’s face tells him- nothing. Nothing, except that Thor is suffering. Struggling with something. _Fuck_.

Thor inhales loudly and slumps forward. He’s given in – given up - and stopped faking being calm and stable. “Look,” he starts off, eyes squeezed closed and forehead all but touching Loki’s. “I feel really bad about the other night,” he offers. “It seemed like you thought I was going to- to punish you?”

_Holy what exactly?!_

Loki is abruptly grateful his brother isn’t looking; it affords him a brief but much-needed opportunity to correct the way his own mouth is hanging open.

“I wasn’t going to, I swear,” Thor goes on, and Loki has to struggle a little to keep up, to remember his brother means _punish him_ , “but I think I get where you were coming from. And I’m sorry.” Thor leans in and nuzzles into Loki’s hair, burying his face into the crook where Loki’s neck meets his shoulder. 

And then Thor is _crying_. Hard, too; big sobs that shake his whole body.

_Crying_ , and all because he-…

_Jesus fuck_. Or something.

Loki wipes uselessly at Thor’s tears with his thumb and then scoots closer and wraps his brother in a big hug. “Hey,” he starts, stalling a little because he’s not sure what else to say. He’s still not even quite sure what’s going on, actually. “Do _you_ want a backrub,” he asks; it would be better to be _doing_ something.

“Maybe,” Thor says, voice muffled and wet. He doesn’t sound very convinced. Or convincing.

Loki laughs and then cringes. He’s _not_ trying to be an asshole; he isn’t! “Well, my other go-to is a good fucking,” he reminds his brother, “and you don’t seem up for that just now.”

Thor laughs in return. It sounds more than a little forced, but it’s a step in the right direction and Loki doesn’t challenge it. “A backrub does sound like a nice start,” his brother acknowledges, sincere enough this time.

He’ll take it.

“Bed,” Loki suggests. He gently ducks out from under Thor’s head and takes his brother by the hand. When he gives the warm fingers a gentle tug, half-expecting at least some small amount of mulish heel-digging, he’s a little surprised when Thor readily follows.

In fact, there doesn’t seem to be much protest _left_ in Thor at all… which is- frightening. “Strip,” Loki orders (gently), and Thor does.

“And lie down on your stomach.”

Thor does _that_ , too.

Loki is dying to ask what’s going on. What’s _really_ going on.

He doesn’t.

If he pushes his brother too hard, Thor will- will what? Flee, probably. In the old days they would have fought, but Thor seems more about avoidance these days. Loki isn’t quite sure what to make of _that_ , either.

_Stop overthinking every-fucking-thing_ , he orders himself.

This needs to be about making things nice for Thor, who is looking lovely and strong in the middle of the comforter, _not_ about feeding his own crazy shit.

Loki squats down and slides the box of supplies out from under the edge of the bed. Chocolate is always his personal favorite but the sleepy-time rub – lavender, vanilla, just enough mint to make it a little more _spicy_ and a little less like traditional shortbread – is probably better suited to tonight’s purpose.

Thor jumps when a pair of handcuffs clanks against something, violently enough to rock their big, solid bed.

Sleepy-time it is, then.

“Shh,” Loki soothes, not sure if he should laugh or feel guilty (and managing to do both at once somehow). He shoves the box back under the bed and sits down beside his brother, carefully. “I’m just getting some oil. For my _hands_ ,” he emphasizes as Thor jumps again, “on your _back_. Honest, Thor: I’m not pulling a fast one,” he promises, slopping oil into one palm and squishing it loudly between his hands. “Relax.”

And then he gets to work, with long, slow strokes, concentrating on Thor’s upper back and shoulders. Loki fully intends to cover every last muscle, from neck to feet and back again, but he wants to this to be sweet and calming and it’s not going to be that way unless his brother can let go of all that pent-up tension and truly unwind.

~

It takes a long time, but Thor does. In fact, he unwinds so thoroughly that he dozes off.

When he starts to twitch and snore, Loki pinches his backside. Just a little, and gently.

“Whuh?” Thor looks around blearily, mouth slack and brown faintly furrowed.

“You were snoring,” Loki explains. “I asked you to stop,” he lies. “I even said _please_ ,” he adds, smiling, because he would have if he- well, had. “Better?” he asks, mildly annoyed with himself for all the pointless dissembling.

“Mm,” Thor hums; _he_ , at least, is being honest. And then he shakes his head and wakes up a bit further. “I really _am_ sorry,” he says again. “I’m trying to be-.”

It’s a nice thought, undoubtedly, but Loki isn’t in the mood to talk anymore. That, and he just put so much effort into de-stressing his brother that his own arms ache with it. “Shh,” he insists. “Just relax for now. We’ll talk later.” He goes back to kneading Thor’s delts, pushing past the cramping strain in both forearms. “If,” he amends, “you still want to.”

“I will,” Thor tells him stonily. “Later.”

This time, when his brother snores, Loki _does_ ask Thor to _please stop_. He feels slightly less dishonest – slightly less _dirty_ \- too, even though his brother keeps right on rumbling. 

And then he adds “I love you, you know,” since he’s sure Thor isn’t listening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost time!

"Saturday is caturday," Loki tells Dr. Riley. "As in, _tomorrow_." He's so wound up today, he's seriously worse than Thor is. Thor of the endless, barely-contained energy. "A mere twenty-four hours from now I will be playing with my kitten in my apartment, with my brother. And poor Marci will be terrified," he finishes, grinning sheepishly, after pausing just oh-so-very-briefly to breathe. "This is so embarrassing," he confesses, leaning his elbows on his knees in a failed attempt to keep from _bouncing_. "People are going to think I'm high."

She laughs, a big belly laugh, not a _for politeness' sake_ one. "Oh, I doubt that," she teases. "I have you pegged as a nasty, cranky stoner."

"Ouch," he wails, clutching his chest. "You wound me." And then he can't help but laugh again too. He’s fucking _giddy_. "But, yeah. You're so right. Just ask Thor." And then they _both_ laugh. For real. Like crazy.

Loki clears his throat and makes himself act a little more appropriately; he has a serious question. "So, what _is_ this, then?" He looks at the floor, then at her face. "What's wrong with me?"

She gives him a strange, strange look: in quick succession confusion, horror, and pity. "This is _happy_ , Loki," she tells him, and now she has her game face back on and is simply _professional_ again. "You're just- happy."

~

Dr. Riley must be right, actually. Both DBT coaches say pretty much the same thing ("it's nice to see you so _happy_ for a change, Loki!"), as does the art room supervisor ("hey, _someone_ sure is happy today!"). And then on his way home the woman working the checkout line in the little supermarket where he stops to grab a few dinner things smiles up at him. "Don't you look happy tonight," she exclaims as he forks over his (okay, Thor's) credit card.

"My partner and I are adopting two cats," Loki tells her, taking the worn snapshot of a little boy holding a ginormous tabby - the picture she has taped to her register - as permission to share. "From a shelter. Tomorrow. I'm so excited," he gushes, as if it's not already way, way too obvious.

"Congratulations," she offers, beaming right back at him. "My nephew here’s adopted, and so is his cat." She points to the picture. "They're both the best there is. The very best."

Loki nods. _Someone loves an adopted kid_. Really loves him, the way you don’t see every goddamned day, and she's not even his mother. A huge wave of something he can’t begin to name rears up and threatens to drown him right here at the fucking register.

"Good luck," she calls as he takes his bags and hurries for the exit. "Not like you'll need it, of course, a nice young man like you."

By the time he gets outside, he's bawling.

~

"Are you okay," Thor asks as Loki sniffles and snuffles his way around the kitchen. "Baby?"

"Yep," Loki assures his brother as he splashes his own face with cold water. "It may not look like much, but I'm happy." To prove it, he grins dangerously. "Seriously, I am. And you should take advantage of this limited time opportunity by _fucking me on the sofa_ ," he points out, grinning even wider at Thor's nearly instantaneous blush. "It's your last chance to do it without picking cat hair out of your mouth for the rest of the evening, believe me.”

“ _Maybe_ after dinner,” Thor shoots back, “if you can convince me that you’re _actually_ happy.”

“Nuh-uh,” Loki says. By the end of dinner, the world could have changed; he might not even be happy anymore. He crams the bag of groceries in the refrigerator without bothering to unload it. “Now or never, Thor. What’s it going to be?”

They eye one another across the kitchen island. For a few moments Loki thinks he may have gone too far and bought himself a big case of _never_.

Finally, though, Thor looks away and licks his lips. “Come here,” he tells Loki.

Loki does. He slinks around the island, putting all of his considerable powers of evil to good use. “There won’t be as much cat hair in here, Thor,” he reminds his brother. “We can do it here any ti- _mph_ ,” he starts (and doesn’t finish) as his brother silences him with two fingers and then warm, soft lips.

“You talk too much sometimes,” Thor says, trailing his teeth very lightly along Loki’s jaw. “Shh.”

Loki nips his brother’s fingers, hard. The snappy retort his brother utterly deserves dies unspoken as Thor growls and whips back to kiss him roughly. Loki tugs impatiently at his brother’s dress shirt and t-shirt, yanking them free of Thor’s waistband, then runs his fingers – not his nails; he’s being nice, because he’s _happy_ \- up and down the warm, broad planes of his brother’s back and sides.

Thor shivers, bracing with one hand against the counter and gripping the back of Loki’s head – up underneath the hair, fingers hot against Loki’s scalp - with the other. 

Loki moans, long and loud. His brother crowds up against him, arching him backwards over the edge of the counter. Thor is so fucking _strong_.

So strong. Loki _loves_ this; loves that he’s pinned against the island, that he couldn’t possibly escape his brother’s tongue in his mouth…couldn’t fight free of the muscled thigh forcing his own legs apart if he wanted to. He moans again – quietly this time, the sound lost in the wet, sloppy noise of their frantic kissing - and digs his nails in _just a little_ … because he needs more and more and more of this.

More overwhelming, overpowering _Thor_. Sick or not, whatever; he loves it.

“You still- want this- on the couch,” his brother pants out between harsh gasps.

“Mm,” Loki hums. He tries to say “I do” but Thor’s mouth is back on his before he can get the words out. He works one leg and then the other up around his brother’s hips; it’s good enough, and he doesn’t end up having to say _take me there_.

~

Thor lumbers out into the living room. Loki doesn’t get unceremoniously dumped on – and then crushed into - the cushions like he expects. Instead his brother carries him around behind, into the broad open walkway between the sofa back and the far wall. “Put your feet down,” Thor demands, into his mouth, and then “stand.” Finally, his brother wrenches free of their kiss with a sucking _pop_. “Now,” he orders, “turn around.”

Loki does, and does, and does.

By the time his brother yanks his pants roughly down and slaps Loki’s bare ass solidly, knocking him off balance and leaving him watery-eyed and panting, Thor could make him do anything. Anything. And with complete impunity, to boot.

And if Thor unwittingly blows the chance of a lifetime on a run-of-the-mill, wrists-pinned-at-the-tailbone, over-the-sofa-back fucking, what of it?

Loki’s _happy_.

And Saturday, which is almost here, is caturday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caturday!!

For the first time in forever Loki's up in time (as opposed to _still up_ , and even that has been a while) to watch the sunrise. The sky is beautiful. Not as beautiful as more sleep, but he knows he wasn't going to be getting _that_ anyway.

He'd tossed and turned much of the night, endlessly conscious of how they were (are!) going to be picking up Marci and Mac in the morning (soon!). To top it all off, about the time he'd finally worn himself completely out _Thor_ had started in on the restless thrashing. And mumbling.

After the third time in half as many hours his brother’d rolled over with a giant sigh, stealing all the covers and leaving him naked and shivering, Loki'd said _fuck it_ and crept silently out into the kitchen to make himself some cocoa. Sif-worthy, too: in a pan, with the good hand-pressed almond milk that's normally just for guests.

 _All in all it does make for some mighty fine sipping_ , he thinks as he leans against the counter to bask in the first light of a new day.

 _The counter_. Loki stretches lazily. He's stiff and sore, with bruises here and there and a pulled hamstring that's going to hurt at least a week…and that’s if he’s lucky. If he looks at the sofa and then shuts his eyes, he can still feel Thor's-.

"Loki?"

"Wha?" Loki jumps. It hurts. Thor is standing in the hallway, just this side of the bathroom door, looking quite a bit closer to asleep than he had in bed.

"You fucking scared me," Loki complains, because he can. Plus, it's true. "What are you doing up so early?"

Thor scratches his ass. "I smelled cocoa," he offers. "And you're up, Mr. Night-owl."

"I fell asleep with a bed-hogging troll," Loki complains.

The floor creaks softly as Thor comes closer. A lot closer. He still smells like sex and like bed. "Mmmm," he hums into Loki's hair. "Someone here brings out my inner animal."

"Right." Loki snorts. "The one that fucking _nests_."

"You love it," Thor teases. "Even if you're walking like you-."

"Don't start," Loki warns his brother, laughing, "or it's going to be me putting _you_ over that thing" - he jerks his head towards the sofa - "next time."

~

"So," Thor starts, taking a long step back and taking Loki by the shoulders, "I'm really nervous." He rubs his palms up and down Loki's arms. "You?"

"A little," Loki admits. "But mostly I'm excited. Mac is _so much fun_ ," he tells his brother, "and it will be good for Marci to be away from that place." It will be, too... she was once someone's pampered house pet and her time in the shelter has been visibly wearing on her. He can hardly wait to see her relaxed and at peace. On his lap, preferably, while he lounges on the sofa and Thor feeds him wet, messy kisses and bonbons.

"What're you thinking," his brother asks, laughing but clearly suspicious just the same. "You look downright evil."

"Never," Loki assures him. "Go put some clothes on and then let's go get our family."

~

The ride to the shelter is- tense. One of the carriers, empty save for a few old towels, clinks and rattles relentlessly. Loki reaches back to rearrange it several times, but has to stop. Empty carriers make him horribly sad.

"What's wrong with you," Thor grumbles. "You're making me so tense I can't drive."

"Sorry," Loki says. He is. "I'll try to be better," he says, contrite and abruptly all but a little weepy.

Thor shoots him a worried look. "Shh," his brother soothes. "I just don't want to kill us."

Loki leans over and kisses Thor’s stubbled cheek. "You won't," he says. "I trust you."

~

A few minutes and a close call or two – _trust_ notwithstanding, his brother is clearly distracted – they’re standing on the sidewalk just outside the shelter. Loki has his hands shoved in his pockets to keep from picking at himself somewhere (everywhere), and Thor is lugging both carriers to show off how manly he is.

Or something.

Frankly, he doesn’t look all that manly dangling two plastic-and-metal cat totes, but Loki loves him anyway.

"That's it," Thor asks. "We just walk in and put them in these" – he waves the carriers at Loki - "and sign a form and _voila_ , we have cats?"

Well, yeah. The rest of it, the hard part – getting sponsored to adopt, submitting all the complicated paperwork, waiving the site visit because they trust one of their most dependable volunteers - Loki has already taken care of. He’s so efficient he surprises himself, really, at least when he puts his mind to it.

He can’t help but laugh at the mortified look on his brother’s face. Or maybe he could help it, and he just doesn’t. "Pretty much,” he agrees. “Then we bring them home."

 _Home_ , where Marci can have a life again and Mac can… own the place.

The two of them are more than a little bit like- like him, and his brother, now that he thinks about it.

Except for how Marci’s much nicer than he is.

Still, Mac and Thor are just about equally stubborn.

~

Thor stalls outside the door. Loki is already gripping the handle. He can see Keisha inside, grinning and waving. "They don't need- I don't know, shots or anything,” his brother asks. “A trip to the vet?"

Thor, Thor. It’s like ripping off a band-aid. They should just get it over with. "That part is all taken care of, at least for now," Loki assures his brother, taking care to sound quite a bit more patient than he actually feels. He’s itchy. He wants to get this done. "They'll have to go eventually, Mac especially, but not right away." He shrugs. "Not this morning,” he assures his brother. “Not this week, even."

"It's going to be fine," he insists when Thor just stands there looking lost. Now that they’re here, he’s got this; he knows he can be calm when he needs to be. Loki grabs a carrier away from his brother with one hand and pulls the door open with the other. "Shall we?"

Thor finally smiles when Keisha comes over to hug him and shake his hand.

~

A little fleece for the carriers and they’re ready to load up and go. Marci puts up a token fuss, nothing Loki can’t deal with. Mac, though? Mac is fucking hilarious. If the little guy was any more furious, the universe might implode.

It’s impossible not to laugh; even Thor can’t keep a straight face watching little Mr. Pissed lash his tiny orange tail. "I like you already," he tells the kitten. And then he says the magic words: "Let's get you guys - sorry, Marci; you _two_ \- home."

Loki wants to hug him. To hug all of them.

~

The ride home is even more nerve-wracking than the ride to the shelter had been. The cats cower, Thor swerves, and Loki tries his damnedest not to fly to fucking pieces. He has cats. _Cats_. He and his brother are _parents_.

How? He can’t even.

It’s _crazy_. _They’re_ crazy.

~

Once they get back to their building, though, Loki can feel the _calm_ seep through him. They’re safe here. Sif is here. This is their home.

~

“So, now what,” Thor asks as Loki lets them – all four of them, two dads and their four-legged children - into the apartment. _Now?_ Loki thinks, _now we get to the easy part_.

He smiles over his shoulder at his brother. “Now you go sit quietly on the floor near the sofa,” he directs, pointing. “You’re big and scary, and they don’t know you as well as they do me. Here, give me that,” he insists, taking the second carrier carefully away from Thor. “Go. Sit.”

Loki waits until his brother is comfortably settled before setting the carriers gently down. “Here you go, little cuties,” he croons. And then he releases the clips holding both small metal doors.

Thor looks like he’s going to die of fear. Another time it might almost be funny. 

Loki walks over to the couch and sits down, one calf against Thor’s warm arm and a hand on his muscular shoulder. “Now we wait,” Loki tells his brother, smiling. “We wait and see.”

~

Mac is the first to come out. He inspects the doorway of his carrier and then marches bravely out onto the rug. He’s fiery orange against the dark weave. Beautiful. Adorable and tiny and strong. Loki loves him. _Loves_.

He knows in his heart of hearts that he will kill anyone who tries to harm his kitten.

Fortunately, about the time he’s in serious danger of _saying_ something to that effect, Mac – all kitten, and oblivious – takes off racing around like a little fur dervish.

Loki can’t stop laughing. Quietly, so he doesn’t scare the cats, but in a good way.

~

“You’re home now,” he tells Marci when she finally dares to surface. And sure enough: she slinks over to him and rubs with her face to mark his hand. He loves her, too, with a quiet certainty nothing can shake.

“Aww,” Thor coos, “you’re awesome.” He watches as Marci licks Loki’s wrist, her little tongue bright pink and scratchy.

“She is,” Loki agrees, barely listening. He has a fluffy black lump to comfort, after all, and a lot going on in his head.

“Yep,” his brother agrees, smiling at the two of them. “But I was talking about you, baby.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor is acting funny and Loki is handling it (not to mention himself) a bit badly.

With the latest adjustment to his meds - not the one they made in the emergency room; the one his care team had worked out with him a few days later when his discharge orders had left him nodding off in DBT class and snoozing in the van on his way to the shelter - Loki knows his impulse control is a lot closer to where it should be. He hasn't even _thought_ about cutting since this last tweak, let alone about doing anything more serious, and it's not solely because he's on his best _new pet-owner_ behavior. Even better, he's not lapsing into a dazed stupor every time he sits still a little too long; _that_ had been novel for exactly two hours before he (and then his instructors, hence the revised dosing) had found himself thoroughly over it.

However, right now Loki is _edgy edgy edgy_ and something has to give.

~

The cats are amazing. Completely goddamned unbelievable, really; more fun than he could possibly have imagined.

Mac is a fluffy orange spring - he can easily jump to waist height in pursuit of a toy, and it's really only concern over his little feet and legs on these hard, hard floors that keeps Loki from letting him go even higher - and Marci comes out of her shell a bit farther each day.

Loki loves playing with them. He loves petting them and chasing them and letting them (okay, _Mac;_ Marci is all grown up and far too ladylike for that sort of thing) gnaw the hell out of his fingers. He loves letting them sleep on him and climb (yep, Mac again) his legs and dig themselves nests (no, Marci this time! What can he say? She's weird) in his hair. He even (especially) loves watching his brother play with them; now that they're used to the size and the noise, they adore Thor's boundless, sunny patience. Thor is _good_ with them, really good, the way Loki _isn't_ good with much of anything. Anyone.

Steve and Sif have stopped over to the apartment several times to play with them (and the cats too, hah!), and Steve has even come by on his own and spent close to three hours drawing Mac in motion. Sif's _boy_ has turned out to have a strong sense of self-preservation; he always insists on drawing Mac _and Loki_.

Loki loves _that_ , too. The adorable kitten sketches are starting to pile up, and there isn't so much as one of Thor among them. Good eye, that Steve. The guy clearly has a thing for beauty. Or something like that. He’ll take it.

~

What Loki _can't_ say he's loving nearly so much - especially because: _edgy_ , so edgy his skin is fucking crawling - is the way his brother has forgotten he exists altogether. Okay, that's not quite fair; Thor talks to him and shares meals with him and laughs that golden fool head off when they gang up on the cats together. His brother even wraps him in big brotherly hugs and smothers him in overdramatized brotherly kisses.

What Thor _has_ forgotten - or, even more concerning, is choosing to ignore outright - is that Loki is (incredibly edgy, so much so that he’s all but buzzing and humming with untapped energy, and) an unflinchingly sensual, sexual creature.

Loki _needs_ physical, sexual interaction. He needs to feel appreciated and attractive and loved, for this one very specific and particular value (yes, among many others, but that's a whole different story and not the issue at hand - literally - at all) of _loved_.

Put more bluntly, Loki _needs_ the way his brother (normally) can't stay in control around him. He fucking needs Thor's hopelessly sick and filthy adoration - his brother's _worship_ \- to live. And the nice part? Thor leaves him absolutely no doubt the reverse is just as true.

Normally.

Since they got the cats, though, something is _different_. It's different in a bad way, and Loki _isn't_ loving it.

~

"Hey, lay off," Thor tells him early on as Loki traces a hand - eagerly, still hopeful and unsuspecting - up the inside of his brother's thigh. "These guys wore me out. I can barely keep my eyes open." _Fair enough_ , Loki thinks, even though he’s disappointed; he's tired too. This is all new. One night of collapsing straight into bed won't kill him.

~

Neither, it turns out, will three.

~

Or four.

~

Thor works late, deftly (and nicely) dodges Loki's advances in the kitchen, declines takeout, and - the coup de grace - brushes his teeth, in a state of blissful fucking oblivion so impossibly ridiculous it simply has to be manufactured, as Loki jerks himself off (loudly, messily; people _pay_ for less, seriously... jesus _fuck_ , Thor!) in the shower only a few scant feet away.

A few scant feet that might as well be the awesome wonders-of-the-modern-world breadth of the grand fucking canyon.

~

“I don’t turn him on anymore,” Loki grumbles to Dr. Riley. “I’ve been replaced by cats. No, no, not like that,” he clarifies as she arches an eyebrow. “I don’t think the _cats_ turn him either. This _is_ Thor,” he reminds her. “He’s as vanilla as they come. You know that. I just- it’s like I’ve ceased to exist.”

She wrinkles her nose and taps her pencil on her boot heel. She’s leaning back in her chair, one foot propped on the opposite knee, and Loki likes her studded boots with their stylized spurs enough to buy himself some. Well, to have Thor buy him some. Except for how his brother has forgotten about him and everything.

“How does he explain it,” she asks.

_Huh?_

“How does who explain what,” Loki asks, because he must have lost the plot somewhere amongst the thoughts of boots and spurs.

“Thor,” she offers. “How does Thor explain his sudden lack of interest, if that’s what it really is?” And then she stops and gives him one of those _looks_ again. “You haven’t even _asked_ him, have you?”

Loki shrugs, kind of. And then he fidgets and squirms, definitely. “Not exactly,” he admits, which is very nearly a complete and total lie because he hasn’t breathed so much as a single word about it. Not to Thor, not to anyone. This is the first time he’s had even a brief conversation about it that wasn’t inside his own-…

_Oh. Right_. He cringes, inwardly. “I don’t know how to talk to him about things like this,” he tells her. He knows he’s whining and the sound of it sets his own teeth on edge. “I don’t know how to say _so, the bloom is off the rose, is it_ , and then not flip out when he agrees.”

Dr. Riley shakes her head and he can just tell she’s trying not to laugh at him. “It’s not funny,” he insists, fingers digging into the chair arms like so many claws.

“You’re right,” she says, and she isn’t laughing after all. “It isn’t. Don’t make this harder than it is, Loki. Just ask if something’s wrong, for starters.”

“But he’s just going to tell me everything is fine,” Loki hurries to protest, “and make it sound like it’s all my imagination, and-.”

“Loki?”

He stops, one hand clamped over his mouth and the other still clutching the chair.

“You have to ask _Thor_ ,” she says, again. “Making it all up as you go-.”

“-gets me nowhere,” he finishes for her, through his fingers. He huffs, out his nose, and then lets his hand fall into his lap. “Why can’t he just fuck me? It’s not like I’m asking for the moon or something. Yeah yeah,” he adds, resigned, when she gives him another look. “I get it, I do: I should just ask him.”

“What a good idea,” she says, and this time she might actually _be_ laughing. “Why don’t you do that?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki is _in a mood_.

_Just ask him_ , Dr. Riley had suggested. Like it was fucking _nothing_.

Loki sighs. It hadn't really even sounded all that easy at the time, in the relative safety of her office. Now, with the object of his decidedly incestuous affections right here in the same room with him, _just ask_ ing is fucking impossible. "How was your day," he chickens out and inquires instead.

"Fine, yours?" Thor doesn't look up from where he's sprawled across one end of the sofa, absent-mindedly scritching Mac with the first three fingers of one hand and dangling a legal review with the other. On top of all that he might be watching TV; the thing is _on_ , but Marci is sitting on the remote and has managed to turn the sound almost all the way down. He’s facing in that general direction, at least; whether that’s intention or coincidence, Loki can't be certain.

"It would be a whole lot better with a good face-fucking, I think," Loki tells his brother quietly. "Don't you think so?"

"Uh huh," Thor mutters, clearly not paying attention. Okay, so he _is_ watching TV. Or something. What he _isn't_ doing is winning any points with Loki. Not that he cares, apparently.

"I don't think Uncle Thor wuvs us anymore," Loki purrs to Marci. "What do you think, Miss Fatso?" He sneaks a quick look at Thor.

Nothing.

Rather than taking his usual seat, thereby joining his oblivious brother on the sofa, Loki stretches in front of Marci and kisses Thor on the lips.

Or, at any rate, he _tries_ to. Rather than welcoming his advances Thor actually swats Loki with the little newspaper or magazine or whatever the fucking thing is.

_Swats_ , like he's a naughty puppy. Seriously. Fucking _swats_.

"Hey," Thor complains when Loki huffs in annoyed surprise. "I'm watching this."

"Of _course_ he is," Loki tells Marci, still crooning in sing-song baby talk but without any effort to keep his voice down any longer. "The big asshole."

"Don't call the cat names," Thor chastises, eyes still riveted to the TV.

"Oh," Loki assures his brother, nastily, "I wasn't."

Thor groans. "What's your problem?" He sounds more tired than angry, really, but Loki is _through_.

"You, you lazy motherfucker," Loki snarls, straightening abruptly before whirling around and stomping off into the kitchen. He leans on the island, weight on both palms and breath coming in rough gasps. _This fucking sucks. Maybe I should leave already_ , he thinks, _before His Royal Highness can't hide his- his whatever anymore and outright asks me to._

"Can you get me a ginger ale while you're up," his brother calls in from the sofa. "Please?"

"Go fuck yourself," Loki spits, carefully keeping his voice low this time. When he takes Thor the soda, though, he makes sure to slosh the glass a little.

"Watch it, asshole," his brother warns as ginger ale slops over the rim and onto one hand.

"Yeah, not like _you_ are," Loki counters. He means _watching his_ , not _being one_ , but Thor of course takes it wrong and swings at him half-heartedly with one of the throw pillows.

At that Mac makes a hasty retreat, tail bushy and feet flying.

"Now look what you did," Thor accuses.

Loki flops angrily onto the sofa with his back to everyone, mostly to hide the fact that he's crying.

~

"Now? Isn’t it kind of late?" Thor digs his phone out of his front pocket, moving carefully so as not to jostle Mac. "Ugh, yeah, it’s late. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"But I want to,” Loki insists. He's finally gotten up the nerve to ask for what he wants directly(-ish), but even that isn't going the way he'd secretly hoped. Which, frankly, is why he really, really hadn’t felt comfortable asking in the first place. “And you should want to too," he points out, because normally his brother _would_ ; the fact that Thor doesn’t is broadly indicative of what’s making of all this so concerning. "It’s been almost a week again.”

Loki sulks, which often results in him getting his way, but this time around Thor only frowns at him.

“I didn’t realize," Loki complains, finally, when nothing else is working, "that I was trading sex for pets.”

“You weren’t,” Thor insists, which is a complete lie whether he means it to be or not. “You haven’t,” he goes on, oblivious. “I mean, I don’t want you to.” He shakes his head. “It’s just- I’m tired? I can’t- it’s hard to concentrate on that sort of thing when I don’t know what they’re up to.”

It takes Loki longer than it should to realize that, by _they_ , Thor is talking about _their cats_. “You go to work and the place is still standing when we get home,” he reminds his brother, trying (and no doubt failing) to employ a neutral tone of voice that might pass for at least marginally _pleasant_. “If we take ten minutes to fuck, what’s the worst that can happen?” _As compared to the myriad awful things that might happen – that will happen – if we don’t, that is_ , he doesn’t add. Not aloud, at least.

“Since when do we take ten minutes to fuck,” Thor kids.

It isn’t funny. It isn’t even _close_ to funny, actually. In fact, it’s pretty goddamned annoying.

“Since we don’t DO it anymore,” Loki snaps, rolling his eyes. “Stamina isn’t something that just magically happens, you know.” He catches and holds his brother’s glare, and waits. And waits. “Fine,” he says, after a painfully long staring session, “I’ll go take care of it myself. Again.” He hauls himself to his feet, dumping Marci on her plump, furry side onto the sofa cushions in the process, and marches off towards the bathroom.

At this rate he’s going to have to buy more chocolate body lotion. _Penis by Godiva_.

“No,” Thor finally says when Loki is nearly out of earshot.

Loki stops, whole body rigid. One wrong word and-. 

“Please,” Thor goes on, voice shaking. He sounds like he’s about to cry.

Whatever Loki intended, that wasn’t it. Not at all, and he feels like shit about it.

“Don’t,” Thor says when Loki doesn’t move. Or answer. “I- I want to, too.”

Loki shifts a little and looks at his brother. He jacks one eyebrow, feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. And not in a good way. “Really?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read Plans, you know what happens next. If not, um, it's messy. In a good way?

The broad strip of dark green silk charmeuse doesn't make a perfect blindfold - even tied painfully tightly, which it isn't, the fabric can't quite prevent him from seeing what's directly below him and when it’s stretched tight it borders on see-through - but it feels slippery and cool against his skin and acts as a nice reminder to his stupid turbocharged brain that he's here to wallow in the physicality of this... not to think think (over)think it.

Thor's fingers - nails, even; how not like his brother - rake over his scalp, pulling some of his hair up out of the blindfold and leaving him with what can only be an astounding case of bed-head.

Loki would laugh, knowing and for once not caring that he must look ridiculous, except for the fact that his mouth is _full_.

His brother grabs at the sides of his head and tugs him closer. It's a start, but it's not enough; Loki has to reach up, take Thor roughly by the hips and reel his brother in. He pulls _hard_ , and fast; Thor has no time to adjust footing, no time to compensate, and Loki's quickly able to force his brother’s dick down his own throat.

It's been a while since they’ve done this, for more than a few seconds at least; the rippling shift of Thor's muscles beneath his hands, the scratchy tickle of hair rubbing against his lips and nose... none of it is quite enough to distract Loki from the sudden, painful stretch. He doesn't gag, exactly - he's a professional, after all - but his throat does spasm uncomfortably around his brother's shaft. His eyes water, tears wetting the blindfold and nose starting to run.

It's good. It's perfect.

Thor hesitates at first, trying to hold back, but Loki spurs his brother on. He grips Thor's denim-clad ass with both hands as tightly as he can and forces his brother forward - in and out and in again, over and over - until nature gets the fucking hint and takes over. And then, finally, he can just hang limp in Thor's big, strong hands and let his brother really _use_ him.

Now, as Thor forgets all about _the rules_ and really goes to town, Loki can _finally_ give himself over to the pain and the escape and, let’s face it, the flat-out humiliation. To the saliva trailing down his neck, the fucking blue and golden sparks he’s seeing behind his closed eyelids, the way the smell of his brother's sweaty balls fills his nose and drowns out the acrid tang of his own straining lungs. To the tears soaking the blindfold and streaking down his cheeks, adding to the wet mess that is his chest and shoulders. To the scrape of Thor’s zipper against his cheek. To all of it.

Just when things are getting really good, when Loki is oxygen-starved and beyond conscious thought and frantically rutting against his brother's ankle, it's over. Thor curls above him, clutching at the back of his head and forcing him completely still, and then pumps a week's worth of burning hot jizz down his wrecked, hurting, roughed-up throat.

_Oh, yes. Oh, oh yes_.

~

“Oh fuck,” Thor pants, only pulling out when Loki resorts to pounding desperately on his muscled thigh. “Oh god.” He's still curled forward, arms shaking now, hands warm and sweaty on Loki's bare shoulders.

Loki shifts a little, nuzzling the worn denim that strains to cover his brother's thigh. He's drenched and exhausted and hard as a rock and it's _good_. “ _Oh god_ ,” he repeats, weak and hoarse but still as capable as ever of dishing out a little teasing. “I like the sound of that." He tries to suck in a breath and ends up coughing, long and hard. "Now," he insists when he's once again able to speak, "it's my turn. Get me off, minion."

"Give me a minute," Thor huffs, laughing. His own voice is faint; he sounds exhausted. "Unlike you I'm only human."

It's okay, though. It is. All Loki can do just this second is cough and wipe his disgustingly sloppy face anyway.

~

Thor flops down on the edge of the bed with a heavy thud. Over the creak of the box spring Loki, blindfold still mostly where it belongs, can hear his brother struggling to breathe normally.

"C'mere,” Thor says, patting his own thigh. His palm smacks loudly against his fabric of his jeans. “Sorry,” he offers when Loki flinches away from the sound. "Come up here and let me take care of you, baby," he says, softer this time; he reaches out to brush his fingers lightly along Loki’s forearm. "Please?"

Loki staggers to his feet, groping awkwardly and catching hold of the bedding and then Thor's- Thor’s knee, probably. His brother takes him gently enough by the wrist but then gives his arm a sharp yank that pulls him completely off balance; Loki collapses graceless and flailing across Thor's lap. He struggles weakly for a few seconds, hissing and coughing and trying to curse, before giving up and slumping limp (and sweating, and _sticky_ ) against his brother's t-shirt.

“Shh,” Thor hushes. “Stay here. No no,” he adds as Loki struggles one last time. “Don’t try to get away. Just stay with me.”

Loki whimpers. All this struggling has done nothing to help with his boner, nothing at all.

"I can make you feel good," Thor whispers into his hair, and Loki shudders. His brother’s breath is warm against his shoulder, against his neck. "If you still want me to, that is," Thor goes on, working one hand inside the waistband of Loki’s thin lounge pants.

_Right, like he can talk at this point._ Loki isn’t sure he can even put two lucid thoughts together.

“ _Do_ you want me to,” Thor asks quietly. “Tell me.”

"Nnh," Loki groans. He _does_ want it; has wanted it for what feels like an eternity. He arches up into his brother's fist as, one-handed and heedless of the slimy mess, Thor somehow still manhandles him close and kisses him forcefully.

When Loki finally comes, back curved up over his brother's shoulder like a bow, he's far too hoarse to really scream.

It’s not enough to stop him from trying.


End file.
